


Distant Lover

by dementia9



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, The Author Regrets Nothing, Timothée Chalamet/Lily-Rose Depp - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-08 04:46:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16422650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dementia9/pseuds/dementia9
Summary: Despite his budding relationship with Lily-Rose Depp, Timmy Chalamet yearns for the man he has always loved. But he finds himself falling for the young woman fast, until Armie Hammer comes back into the picture.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So... I started writing this on my vacation. I have had it on my mind for a few days. (Being on a cruise ship will do that to you.) In any case, we will see where this goes.
> 
> (Mind you, this is also not betaed, so please excuse any mistakes.)

Timmy watched a naked Lily-Rose primp herself in the full-length mirror, his head resting on his palm and his face carrying a wolfish grin. He was swaddled in bedsheets as he stared at her body, slightly flushed after an intense sex session that seemed to last for hours.

She was a slightly built young woman with apple-sized breasts that he "measured" with his hands, a tiny waist, and wide hips that revealed a perfect bottom. Her straight blond hair was chest-length, her slim fingers running through the tresses. Timmy shook his head, knowing it would get tangled again.

They were in his apartment in the Bronx, a place she wanted to see but Timmy unsure she would care for. It was a small space, spartan with a kitchen, a bathroom and two bedrooms with two beds squeezed in. It smelled of weed, the smoke carrying over from the adjacent apartments, but it was tidy, everything in its place. The most elegant item, placed near the entrance in the living room, was a black baby grand piano that Timmy would occasionally play.

Lily-Rose, accustomed to luxury, was fascinated by the place, much more than Timmy thought she should have been. He thought she was kidding when she confessed that she liked it.

"I've always been used to bigger things, Timmy," she replied softly as they sat on his bed earlier that night. "This is a welcome change."

She did not know the history nor the present - the blatant downsizing of the older renters to make way for the new; the constant, near-religious grab for money that continued to permeate the city beyond Wall Street; the whitewashing that threatened to permanently lighten the housing market. She did not even realize the lengths people would go for independence from their parents, renting out tiny apartments for thousands of dollars that, in retrospect, seemed like less of an investment.

Timmy told her these things in great detail. She stayed quiet.

Even now, as he watched her in the mirror, he could not help but wonder why he dared to open his mouth in the first place.

As she fiddled with her hair, she turned to face him, noticing the sultry Cheshire cat grin on his face. She began to blush as a giggle bubbled from her lips.

"What?!" she laughed. "What are you staring at?"

" _Tu, mon amour_ ," he replied, his voice deep and husky.

Lily-Rose slowly pulled her hands from her hair and put them behind her back, her eyes looking down at the floor. French was their shared language, as both were products of mixed cultures: her Parisian mother and Kentucky-born father to his Nîmes-born father and New Yorker mother. It was almost - though not entirely - a secret between them, a term of endearment.

Tonight, it was a beckoning.

When her eyes glanced up at Timmy again, he was pulling the sheet from his body, revealing a cock standing at full mast, the tip wet with precome. Her pouty lips parted slightly as she saw him sit up in bed, pulling himself to the edge. 

She smiled as she approached him, cupping his face in her hands, her pert nipples jutting out. He wrapped his wiry arms around her waist, his palms cupping her buttocks as his teeth caught one of her nipples. Caught off guard, Lily-Rose gasped and hissed, pulling him against her.

" _Amour_ ," she whispered. "Let me..."

She was unable to finish as he prodded her open with a finger. Lily-Rose threw her head back with a cry as she placed herself on his lap and her knees on the bed, sliding herself up and down.

"I'll put it on," he whispered, thrusting her with the long digit. "I promise."

Timmy slowly stuck another finger inside, gasping at how soaked she was. He kissed her breasts and her torso, one hand squeezing her ass and the other slick with her come. He growled as she continued to move, her own moans bouncing off the walls off the room.

"Fuck," he hissed. "I could come just from watching you."

"N-Not yet," she cried.

With a hand, she gently removed his fingers from her vagina, whimpering at the loss of contact. She reached over to the nearby nightstand and pulled out a condom from the drawer. As she ripped open the package, she felt a hand lift her chin. Timmy stared at her again, this time his expression less hungry. It was if he was admiring a painting, lost in the colors and shapes. Lily-Rose's brown eyes searched his green, her own face matching his.

" _Tu est belle_ ," he whispered before pressing his lips against hers.

They shivered in each other's arms as they made out, until she pulled away from him, frantically putting the condom on. Once sheathed, she lifted her body to position herself on his cock, gently lowering herself onto it until it was fully engulfed. 

The two of them stared at each other without moving, pressing their foreheads together. Lily-Rose wrapped her arms around Timmy's neck, while Timmy's arms stalled at her waist. He nodded gently, a signal for her to start.

She rode him once before, violently and trembling, in the beginning of their relationship. He savored the way she undulated against him, the way her pussy tightened while he was inside her. It caused a long moan to pour from his mouth before he grabbed her hips and thrust wildly. She was by no means innocent, deflowered at seventeen. But she could fuck like a woman.

And now, even as their bodies moved molasses-slow in synchronicity, making love once again, he found himself drowning in her essence.

And that was the problem.

*************

It was meant to be a distraction, a fling of sorts: The new, young Hollywood star dating a legendary actor's daughter in an effort to hide his perceived homosexuality. It had all been done before, in different ways and in such neat packages. 

The problem was that such things took place decades before, when there was barely a threat of cameras flashing around; even if the threat existed, nobody talked. Now, everyone had a camera and no one knew how to hold his or her tongue.

Also, Timmy never discussed his love life. Who he chose to fall in love - or sleep - with was strictly his business. But being around the business himself, he knew that the game, brutal as it was, had to be played. So, with a New Yorker's grace, he threw caution to the wind and said, "Fuck it all!"

But now, watching Lily-Rose sleep, the sheet barely covering her curves, he wondered if he had been wrong about everything.

Smoking the last of his joint, he stared out of the window, distant lights scattering across the sky. He turned his head to hear the sound of feet shuffling across the floor, whispers in Spanglish filling the hallway. A creak of a door opening followed, before it slammed shut seconds later.

He kept the window open to let the smoke out, hoping not to disturb Lily-Rose. He walked back to bed, crawling beneath the sheets next to her and wrapping an arm around her body. He bent his head to kiss a bare shoulder before nuzzling his face in her hair. 

He suppressed an orgasm as he inhaled - her hair and skin were fragrant of roses. It was a memory of his childhood in France, the summers playing with his cousins in their yard, his aunt's garden filled with flowers. He could see and smell the spread of roses and lavender covering the scene; he nearly tasted them on her body during their lovemaking.

It was also a reason for the cologne he wore that night in Toronto, the last time he saw his Armie.

Lily-Rose turned to Timmy's chest, pressing a kiss to his heart before settling into slumber again. Timmy smiled down at her, tracing her body with his fingertips before looking into the night.

 _No more regrets_ , he thought. _It's time for sleep_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure how often I will update this given my busy schedule, but I will do my best. I'm working on the next chapter for "Evanescence," as well.

"It's raining again," Lily-Rose declared the next day, staring outside the window. 

She was dressed in one of Timmy's shirts, her long legs crossed underneath her on the bed. She uttered a long sigh as she watched the drops fall, her arms wrapped around her as if she had been standing out in the cold.

Timmy emerged from the bathroom wearing only black drawstring pants, his eyes trained on Lily-Rose as he approached the bed. She turned her head and looked at him, her lips twisting into a smile.

"Shall we make love again?" he teased, crawling beside her.

She rolled her eyes and giggled, "We don't need to focus on sex so much, Timmy!"

"But we're French, Lily," he joked. "It's in our DNA. All we do is talk about love!"

The two of them laughed, and she gave him a playful shove. He pulled her closer by her waist, cradling her in his arms. The two of them cuddled, watching the rain pitter-patter against the window. He rubbed her arm and kissed her forehead, while she played with the chain around his neck.

"Last night was incredible," she whispered, her face filled with a blush. "And I don't just mean what we did in your bed. I mean...everything."

Timmy smiled widely, resting his chin on her head and hummed, "Hmmm. It was, wasn't it? Chilly night in the city, walking..."

"Holding hands," she continued, tracing her finger along his bicep. "Kissing you. I know I sound like such a romantic, but..."

"No, no, no," Timmy said quietly, shaking his head. "Don't worry about that. I like that you are. If anything, I'm the one who is the least romantic."

"Oh, shut up," she retorted, pinching him, which made him jump. "You are very romantic, Timmy. Very sensual."

He raised an eyebrow. "How so?"

Lily-Rose gently pulled herself away from his hold and stared at him. "I mean... You were stroking my body, you kissed me all over, you, like..." She looked down at her fingers as they picked at the bedding. "You were whispering to me in French while you were inside of me."

She blushed as she looked back up at him and was surprised to see a confused look on his face, his eyebrows knit together.

"Y-Y-You," he stammered. "You like that?"

She smiled, tracing his lips with her thumb. "You didn't notice?"

Timmy slowly turned his head and captured the thumb in his mouth, staring at Lily-Rose as he sucked on it. She gently pulled the digit from him mouth and leaned closer, gliding her tongue past his lips in a feverish kiss before pushing him back on the bed.

"Wow," she sighed, nearly breathless. "If you didn't know how seductive you were before, I'm sure you know now."

Timmy gave a lopsided grin. "You really think so, huh?"

She rolled her eyes at him again. "Yes, I do. Why don't you believe me?"

Timmy's grin faded, and Lily-Rose stopped speaking, realizing she hit a nerve. She stroked his cheek before he moved closer to her and sat his head in her lap. He felt her slim fingers run through his hair, and he released a breath he did not know he was holding.

"Do you ever feel like sometimes you're just pretending?" he began as he looked up at the ceiling. "Like, you know, all these expectations are weighing on you and you don't know how to meet them, so you just...fake it? It's like, I don't know... I know you're complimenting me, but I feel like sometines, I don't know who I am or what I'm doing anymore." He paused, closing his eyes and opening them again. "Does that make any sense?"

Lily-Rose looked down at him, her face in shadow. "You mean, like a trap?"

Timmy nodded. "Yeah, kinda. Don't get me wrong, though - it's not like that with you. It's just that..." He sat up and faced her. "I want to be real with you. I always want to be honest with you, and I think you're honest with me. But the people around us just aren't. They expect us to be more than who we should be, and that really scares me."

Lily-Rose cocked her head to the side and studied Timmy. Sometimes she forgot that he was quite mature, despite being more than three years older than her.

"As long as we know who we are to each other, what our inner circle and the rest of the world think shouldn't matter," she replied. 

She cringed a little at her words, wondering suddenly if this was what Timmy meant. Timmy noticed the slightly pained expression and shook his head.

"Look, forget I said anything," he soothed, kissing her hands. "It's just me overthinking, as usual."

"No, Timmy," she insisted. "It's alright. You have the right to express yourself, you know."

Timmy smiled and leaned in to kiss her, stopping short when the sound of his stomach rumbling disturbed the reverie. He pulled back and sighed, reaching up to rub his neck.

"Sorry," he whispered, turning red. "I guess we should get something to eat."

Lily-Rose shook her head with a laugh and leaned in to kiss his cheek. "I think we should shower first."

She climbed off the bed and walked to the bathroom, stopping at the door before turning to face him.

"Join me?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Armie is finally here. It's quick, but they haven't met up yet.

The phone buzzed on the nightstand, the second time it went off that morning. Ignored, it sat there, making noise in an effort for someone to answer it, then went silent again.

Timmy and Lily-Rose could not hear anything in the shower, nor were they trying to. They were caught up in each other again, hands and lips everywhere. At one point, Timmy massaged her shoulder and she nestled her back again his chest, her head resting against his. Timmy nuzzled against her, burying his nose in her wet hair before stealing a kiss.

"So, where shall we go for breakfast?" she asked him, reaching up and running her fingers through his hair.

Timmy rested his cheek against her temple and sighed. "Maybe Mud again? What were you thinking?"

Lily-Rose shrugged. "Maybe a place where we can just sit and talk. It's kinda cold out." She shivered in his arms. "Maybe that bagel place you like..."

"Tompkins Square Bagels?"

"Yeah, that one. Then, we should catch a movie or something."

 _Or something_. Timmy bit his bottom lip and rolled his eyes. He normally liked to go with the flow, but he was home. He knew all the places to go. But he returned his lips to her cheek, silently apologetic for forgetting that she did not live in the city.

"Speaking of cold," he replied, stretching out a palm beneath the shower, "I think we should get out. We've been in here too long."

As Timmy bent down to turn off the shower, Lily-Rose slowly pulled away from him, pulling back the curtain and stepping on the mat. She pulled a long blue towel from the rack and began to dry her skin, but soon let out a yelp when she felt Timmy's fingers pinch her ass!

"Timothée!"

Timmy laughed at her face, saucer-eyed with an open-mouthed smile. He soon put his hands up the minute he heard his full name, chuckling, " _Desolé_."

She threw the towel at him before walking away, hearing his snickers behind her. "You're lucky I like you so much!"

***************

Armie Hammer stared at the phone again. He was placing his thumb on the 'Call' button, but did not press it. He thought of calling Timmy again, but after he left message after message, he started to wonder if the young man would ever respond.

Silently, he threw the phone on the bed and walked into the bathroom. He was alone in his hotel room while the rest of the family was back in California. It was a business trip - he was promoting his new movie - but it was much of the same.

He threw some cold water on his face to wake himself up. It had only been twelve hours since he landed in New York, but he still felt drained from the flight. Coast-to-coast flights were always long. 

But it was worth it if he got to see Timmy.

They spoke on the phone when they had the chance, but it was rare for them to be in the ssme place since they were always working. After "Call Me By Your Name" wrapped, the two continued a relationship that on the surface seemed like a solid friendship, a "big brotherhood" as Timmy once called it. They were close buddies - nothing more, nothing less.

But at times, it felt like the dual spectre of Elio and Oliver inhabited the room.

Armie groaned and put his head in his hands, trying to shake off fatigue and heartache. It would only be fair if Timmy were trying to forget him; he flirted with him, but he created the distance, as well.

Maybe had someone else. Another guy, perhaps? Or a girl?

_Stop it, Armie! He's probably just busy. Get out of your fucking head!_

"Coffee," he muttered to himself, opening his eyes.

Resolute and satisfied with the thought, Armie let out a shuddering breath before leaving the bathroom. He walked to the closet and grabbed his coat, palming the pocket for his room key. No matter how many times he stayed in hotels, he always managed to lose one. Once, he lost a key during a showing at a theatre in London, not knowing it until he and his wife got into the town car to head back to the hotel. Thankfully, she had hers with her, but she shook her head with disbelief, standing behind him as he went up the counter to ask for a new one, his neck and face completely red.

Armie's lips twisted into a crooked grin at the memory, collapsing once again with a sigh. Taking a look out the window, he saw the raindrops slowing down. He glanced at the umbrella near his suitcase before shaking his head, twisting the knob on the door to open. Turning his eyes to the corridor, he stepped out of the room and closed the door behind him.


End file.
